


It is harsh in the world

by JaguarCello



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Creepy flirting, F/M, Imprisonment, M/M, Masochism, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Sub Loki, flirting for the sole purpose of chaos, line between reality vs imagination, self harm via magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarCello/pseuds/JaguarCello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it had been a mistake to tie Loki up, for giving people what they want, he had reasoned, could be the most dangerous mistake his so-called father had ever made. He had decided a long time ago that making people uncomfortable was the best way to get them to do what he wanted, and he could play the long game. He just had to set out the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You didn’t think this through, did you?” Loki said to the guards who held his chains. “I mean, I hate to be perverse,  but you can’t leave me tied up and expect me  _not_  to like it.” He smirked, and watched one of the guards shift slightly.

“You’re wondering about the kneeling thing,” he went on, straining his wrists against the cuffs until his pale skin flushed about the metal. “How can I try to get the entire world to worship me, and then enjoy such base things as this? I understand your confusion, but really I'm very flexible,” and he tilted his hips until the chains at his back clinked as they touched. The guards pointedly looked away.

“Do you even say anything? Did the man who called himself my father cut your tongue out? Or, let me guess – did he sew your lips together? Because, and I speak from experience, not the best day of my life. Pain, sure. Humiliation, fine. But when it’s your own father – not my father, my captor - watching it being done, and the whole court watching and laughing behind their hands, it’s less erotic.” He paused, and there were two spots of colour high in his cheeks. “ _This_ , on the other hand –“

 The guards ignored him still, turning into the long corridor of the dungeons. The prisoners looked at him, then turned back to staring at the shimmering cages that kept them from breaking out, although some glared from the corners of their eyes. He had played cards with many of them in his youth, he remembered, and had cheated his way to victory every time – and who could forget a prince of Asgard, cheating and lying and tricking? His father – and he had to remind himself then that no, Thor’s father – had been furious.

“Your cell,” one of the guards told him, gesturing to a large, empty cell. “You’ll be alone,” he went on, and Loki stepped into the cell; immediately the same golden force-field folded down across the front.

"So, my dear brother won't be able to come and see me? To take my mind off things? How about my supposed family? Will they weep into their blonde hair, or will they congratulate themselves on ridding themselves of the frost giant in the room?" He squeezed his eyes shut, and then inhaled so quickly that the guards' hands flinched on their scabbards. He knew the magic that governed the cells, but he couldn't resist trying to touch the golden barrier - and leapt back with a cry, finger smarting. 

"Your family will stay away," the guard who had spoken told him, making no attempt to hide the smile that spread across his face. "Everyone will stay away," he added, and Loki reached out for the magic that roiled beneath the surface of his skin, but it was sluggish, and he only managed to hide the welt that was forming on his burned finger. 

“Will I be able to –“ he begun, but the second guard interrupted him.

“Magic? Basic. Not enough to escape – you need real battle skill for that,” he said, running a finger along the scabbard at his belt.

“Of course, you’re proud of your prowess as a swordsman – and I’ve heard the rumours. Well, I created most of them. Your wife refuses to share your bed, and your children shun your company. I’d recommend you stop bolstering your boasts with phallic imagery, because I am still tied up, and you’re probably  _very_  strong –“ and his voice had dipped to an almost purr now. The guard looked away, away from Loki’s smile.

“I should have known from the start that you were no son of Odin,” the first guard told him. “Your – your perversities, your proclivities are well known. The father – or would that be mother? – of Sleipnir, and then you’re the father of Fenrir and Jormundandr and  Hel, even if they were supposed to be bound and buried and exiled. Your children are monstrous, Loki, and when Ragnarok comes –“

 “Do you think I’m unaware of the future which has happened countless times? The incest, the patricide – not that I’m  _averse_  to that, as such – and I’ll break free from my bounds and ruin countless lives, et cetera. It’s not like the idea is new to me, the life-ruining,” he confided, and his grin was enough to make the guard take a step back.

“I suggest you either release me from my chains – I can make my life a little more comfortable, since you’ve neglected to provide me with any furniture. Am I supposed to stand here until the wind age, the wolf age, until the world goes headlong? You think me a patient man?” He paused. “Release me from my chains, or make my first night a little more comfortable. I know you’ve got it in you,” he added.

His form rippled slightly, and he was no longer Loki but a sword-maiden with ice in her eyes. “Or would you prefer this?” she asked, sweetly, but the undertow of menace was all Loki. She stretched, and the chains at her wrists allowed her to move enough so that the plated armour of her mail touched the fetters. The guards looked at each other, and Loki laughed, the man’s voice coming from the reddened lips of the woman, and then they looked back and he was a man again, laughing.

“Enough of your tricks,” the first guard told him sternly, and he shivered.

“Sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked, and his smile was a sharp-toothed wolf, and for a second they saw blood glistening on his tongue. “I can be whatever you want me to. I can do whatever you want me to, even if it hurts – I’d like that – you can leave bruises and blood - “

“Enough,” the second guard said, and the two turned and half-fled from the dungeons, with Loki’s laughter echoing in their ears, and his smile lingering in their minds. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations with adopted mothers about crime are probably a bit fraught in most families, but Loki finds a way of making it worse for himself.

“I suppose you think,” Loki said to Frigga, “that I’m grateful to you for stopping Odin from executing me? He’d have loved to have pulled my lungs out through my splayed ribcage – but then, who would pour salt inside my skin? You? Thor? I know you’re all lining up to do so –“

Frigga frowned at him. “You killed thousands of people. I know you pretend to have forgotten the stories we used to tell you as a child – “ Loki flinched, but looked back at her – “but we taught you honour, duty, right and wrong. We showed you love and care and affection, and Odin _saved_ you so that you could spit hatred at him from your prison cell. Do not tempt his rage, Loki.” She paused, and then said, softer this time, “Have you been reading?”

 He looked down at his hands, where sores criss-crossed his wrists from where he had tugged at the restraints. “These hands were not made for anything but killing. I loathe to go all Lady Macbeth –“

 Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, you have been reading. I thought you’d enjoy Macbeth. That girl Thor trails after – Jane – told me it would be appropriate, and I’d met her ten minutes before then. He’s picked someone good for him,” she said, and smiled.

Loki rolled his eyes, lounging back on the chair. “And we’re back to talking about Thor again! Let’s talk of graves, of worms – “

“I thought you hated – what was the word you used? – “Earth nonsense”? And here you are, quoting their words. You can’t use words to escape everything,” she added quietly. “Some things cannot be healed with a clever spell. Some hurts run too deep, some crimes are too _depraved_ –“

“Is this about Sleipnir? Because, you know, I have had no influence on his upbringing –“

She made a motion as if to slam her hand against the cell wall, but then stopped, eying the gleaming gold of the force field. “You tried to kill your own brother. You sent a _monster_ after him –“

“Be careful when you fight monsters, lest you become –“ but he started to laugh before being able to complete the sentence. It was a bitter laugh, as broken as the clatter of water down a broken drainpipe, and Frigga looked away.

“This madness of yours, this need to control and kill, this _fire_ – had we known that frost giants were capable of such a burning hatred, then we –“

Loki interrupted her again, green eyes bright with something a little off from glee. “Oh, I’m capable of so much more than a little murder, you know,” and Frigga took a step back. He barked another laugh.

“Scared? Of the runt of the litter? I thought you Asgardians were supposed to be warriors,” he sneered, but there were tears coursing down his face. He rubbed at them stubbornly, and then waved a hand and they were gone, his face dry and fresh.

“I won’t listen to this,” she told him, and he shrugged.

“You’re not even there, are you? I conjured you, or I allowed you to force me to conjure you – can you see inside my head? I look into yours and there are castles to keep me out, but my defences were smashed with half of New York.” He shrugged again, and looked round to see if she was still there.

“I can see you still,” he told her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“I’m here, Loki. Your mind – your mind needs time to recover. Odin thought –“

He interrupted again, suddenly vicious. “I’m only alive because Odin decided it would be a better punishment to leave me alone to examine every inch of my own mind. I know that the nine realms are baying for my blood, but I’ll never be thrown to them because death would be a sweet release from this,” and he gestured at the cell. “You can’t even bring yourself to lie to me, can you? I wish you could. I’d probably engage with you more.”

She looked at him, and he felt his cheeks flush, and her voice was carefully controlled anger. “I asked him to spare you, to let you live in the city – “

“You would keep me on a leash? You would parade me about the place like the spoils of war? I would be no prize, but a canker. I would corrupt and charm and wheedle my way into every bed and every mind that matter –“ and Frigga blanched at his words. He gave another scornful laugh. “I create _chaos_ for fun. I could never just sit in a cell and wait patiently, or be dressed up in expensive chains and put in a goldfish bowl.” He paused. “I listened to what Thor told me about Earth, but I pretended not to, of course.”

He stopped, and then looked up at her, face twisted in fury. "You think I'm not worthy to be executed. You'd rather lock me away, still that stolen relic, but because you want my deeds to be wiped out when they find my rotten corpse. You'd rather all reject me over again, and leave me with petty criminals -" he gestured at the other cells that surrounded his -"than give me the death I've been craving since I learned who I was? You don't know me at all," he muttered, brokenly. 

"I know you far too well, Loki, and so does Odin." She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand, but they stubbornly remained. Loki sighed, and twisted his hand towards her; her dress was neatly pressed. “Odin cannot look at you without disgust. I struggle to hold back the bile in my throat, but your crimes do not bother you, do they?”

“The ends justify the means,” he said solemnly, examining his hands. “Look at my hands,” and when he raised them, she saw that they were cracked and bleeding, with open sores stretching across the palms. “On Midgard they call this stigmata. It’s meant to mean that I am the son of God – which God this is, I have no idea. I mean, they worshipped _Thor_ for a bit. Could I have something to dress it with?” he asked, and she squeezed her eyes shut as if the blood that dripped from his hands and feet would go. It didn’t.

“Is this another one of your tricks?” she asked, eying the blood and his clenched teeth. “I’ll get bandages for you,” she added, and he smiled.

“You’ll need to get me a knife, as well. The guards don’t like me enough to take me to the infirmary – something about inappropriate flirting, but they’re the ones tying me up – you’re not my mother and you don’t need to look pained by this,” he added, but she screwed her face up slightly anyway.

“Enough,” she said firmly, and turned to go, long dress floating behind her, but as she turned the corner, he thought he saw a green shimmer of light steal her from his sight. He blinked, and she had gone.

Loki smiled again, and drove another splinter of magic through his hands, until he felt the bones splinter and the blood bubble up around the wounds, until he tilted his head back against the cold floor and hissed in pain and triumph.

The guards watched him through the cell side, and muttered amongst themselves. He stared back, and then smirked. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a terrible person


End file.
